


A Clock Shop in Manchester

by ClairesGuiltyPleasure



Series: Valentine's 2021 [8]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Thomas's Suicide Attempt, Minor Character Death, Thomas' Father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClairesGuiltyPleasure/pseuds/ClairesGuiltyPleasure
Summary: Jimmy finds himself in Manchester and when he searches for a job, he comes across a familiar name.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Valentine's 2021 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143710
Kudos: 46
Collections: Well I love you: Valentines for Thomas Barrow





	A Clock Shop in Manchester

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 8. "You did allof this for me?"
> 
> I changed it a little bit.

Jimmy wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up in Manchester. He just knew that after he lost another job in London, he’s had enough of the city, and his only goals had been to get drunk and leave. Which he apparently did, not that he remembered. He was just glad that even in a drunken state he had the mind to take all his belongings with him.

He was eating breakfast in the pub where he spent the night, reading a local newspaper, especially to see if there were any job offers. There was one that immediately caught his eye, and before he could properly think about it, he was in a taxi, showing the driver the address. The ride didn’t take long at all and he found himself standing in front a clock shop.

A bell chimed when he opened the door.

“Good morning,” he said. The man behind the counter looked tired. His back was hunched, his eyes hollow.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“Are you Mr. Barrow? I saw your advertisement in the newspaper. I wanted to ask about the job.”

“Ah, yes. And who are you?”

“Jimmy Kent, at your service,” he shook Mr. Barrow’s hand.

“Well, Mr. Kent. What do you know about shopkeeping and clocks?”

“I worked in a music shop and a book shop in London for a while. I’m told I’m good with customers. I admit I don’t know much about clocks, I used to work in service, so I know how to wind them. But I’m willing to learn.”

“The truth is, Mr. Kent, I’m old and I need somebody to take over in a few years. I could teach you, but you must tell me, if you’re up to it. I can’t afford to hire you now and have you leaving in a few months. So, are you?”

“I believe so, sir,” Jimmy said.

“Well then.”

“Pardon me the question sir, but would you happen to have a son named Thomas?” Jimmy asked and watched Mr. Barrow’s reaction. It certainly caught his interest and an emotion crossed his face.

“You know Thomas?”

“I do. We worked together. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he was my best friend.”

“Ah. Where is he?” there was longing in the old man’s voice.

“In Downton Abbey. He was the under-butler when I left.”

“So he has done well for himself.”

“He has.”

*

Jimmy enjoyed the work in the shop more than he thought he would. He got along well with Mr. Barrow, who sometimes reminded him painfully of Thomas. They had the same wit and neither of them was afraid to speak his own mind. Thomas hadn’t mentioned his father often to him, but when he had, he had said nothing nice about the man. Jimmy thought the old age must’ve made Mr. Barrow soft. It was obvious he missed his son.

“Tell me more about my son,” he would often say as they worked together. And Jimmy did. He told him when he remembered something especially witty that Thomas had said or a funny anecdote that happened to them.

“He was in the war,” Jimmy said one afternoon.

“Was he?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know him then. He was a medic, but he had to fight too. He was in the Somme. Then he got injured and sent home. In Downton, they had a convalescence centre for officers, and he oversaw it. I think he was a sergeant, too.” He didn’t say, how Thomas got hurt, he didn’t think his friend would want him to.

“He must’ve been so brave,” Mr. Barrow said.

“That he was.” They worked in silence for a while. “Mr. Barrow, if you miss Thomas so much, why don’t you write to him?” Jimmy asked.

“Because I did terrible things to Thomas. When my wife died, Thomas was ten. In that moment I realized that Thomas was the only one left to me. I had my daughter, too, but I knew she would marry and move away. She never liked me much. But Thomas loved me, I think. And I loved him. He was such a happy little boy. Until his mother died. We were devastated. I’ve always wanted Thomas to take over the shop, one day. And I started taking him with me every day. And not just that. I was trying to make him into a proper little gentleman, forcing him to behave certain way. And I was harsh too, I wouldn’t go too far for a slap. The thing is, I was trying to change him so much that I didn’t realize I was changing too. I think I’ve made him afraid of me, and the more I wanted him to be like me, the more he wanted to be the opposite.” There were tears in the man’s eyes and Jimmy didn’t know what to say.

“And then, one day, I threw him out. I threw him out because I caught him kissing another boy. I was shocked. Shocked and disgusted because that wasn’t what my son should be like. I threw him out and he went. He didn’t fight me, he just took his things and left. And I don’t blame him. My daughter was married and lived in London then. When she learned what I did, she came all the way to Manchester and yelled at me. She said that if her mother knew what I did, she would be so ashamed of me. She said I was no father of hers. That was the last time I ever saw her. I heard she moved to America. And that was it, I was alone. Truly alone for the first time in my life. I can’t write to my daughter because I don’t know where she lives. And I can’t write to my son because what I did was unforgivable. I wouldn’t be able to meet his eyes if I spoke to him.”

You’re not the only one who did wrong by him, you know,” Jimmy said and found himself telling him the story of how Thomas fancied himself in love with him. He didn’t leave anything out, ending it just after the beginning of their friendship. Mr. Barrow was quiet for a while.

“You’re a good lad, Jimmy,” he said eventually. “A bit foolish, but good. And you love my son, do you not?”

“I suppose I do. He is my best friend.”

“Yes, yes.”

The thing was, the more Jimmy talked about Thomas, the more he missed him. He never had a friend like that, and he longed to share his days with him. He didn’t know if that was normal for friends. And he didn’t know what it made him when late at night he was falling asleep to the memory of Thomas’s red lips and broad shoulders.

*

About a year after Jimmy started working in the shop, Mr. Barrow has fallen ill. He’s been having problems for quite some time now. Jimmy had accepted his offer to move to the flat above the shop, as the old man was no longer able to climb the stairs. He lived in a small room in the back of the shop.

That autumn, however, was especially cold and windy and Mr. Barrow wasn’t able to get out of the bed for about two weeks, when he got a fever. Jimmy called for the doctor, who told him, that Mr. Barrow most likely won’t make it. Jimmy did the only thing he could think of and wrote a letter to Thomas, saying that he apologises for not writing for such a long time and that he has business of utmost importance to tell him and to meet him in Ripon on Thursday.

“Jimmy,” Mr. Barrow said after the doctor left. “I’m going to die soon. I want you to keep the shop and the flat.”

“But what about Thomas? You said you kept the shop for Thomas to take over one day,” Jimmy was surprised.

“I know. Thomas will get my money, which is quite something since I didn’t really have anything to spend it on. And if he wants to, he could come to work with you. But you’re good at what you do. And you’ve been a friend to me and in a way, you’ve brought my son back into my life and I’m grateful for that.”

Jimmy left early on Thursday morning. He didn’t tell Mr. Barrow where he was going, just that he’d be away the whole day. He arrived in Ripon just before lunch. Thomas hadn’t written back, but Jimmy hoped he’d come anyway. He went to the bus station and decided to wait there. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; he was meeting Thomas after all. His best friend. He hoped Thomas won’t be angry at him for not writing more than the two or three letters while he was still in London.

Finally, he saw Thomas’s familiar figure in the crowd that emerged from the bus arriving at three. He immediately made his was over to him.

“Thomas!” he shouted and waved, smiling widely. Thomas turned around and Jimmy felt his smile slip away. Thomas looked terrible. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Hello Jimmy,” Thomas said, and his voice sounded a little different too. As soon as Thomas was within reach, he wrapped him in a tight embrace. It was something that he regretted not doing when they were saying goodbye. Thomas was stiff in his arms, so he let him go after a few seconds, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable.

“How have you been?” he asked, although he doubted Thomas would give him an honest answer.

“I’ve had my ups and downs. How about you?” They started walking towards a park where they used to sit sometimes when their half-days aligned.

“Me too. Although it’s been good lately.”

“I’m happy for you then. Where have you come from?”

“Manchester,” Jimmy said, looking for some sort of reaction. He only got a nod of acknowledgement.

“You got a girl there?”

“No.” Jimmy didn’t. In fact, he was only with one girl since he left. And she has cost him his job. Again. It was a pity, really, because he didn’t even like her.

“What do you do then?” Thomas asked. And that was the question Jimmy dreaded, sort of.

“I’m working in a clock shop,” Jimmy said slowly, “with your father.”

“What?” Thomas turned to look at him, surprised.

“You heard me. That’s why I’m here, kind of. Thomas, your father is dying. He has taken ill a few days ago and the doctor said he won’t make it.”

“Well. Good riddance, I suppose,” Thomas said without emotion.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You know what he’s done.”

“Come to Manchester,” Jimmy said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Jimmy, the man hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t, Thomas. He loves you. He always asks me to tell him stories about you. I think his favourite is the one about how you got rid of that horrid nanny. And he knows he was wrong. He regrets what he’s done to you.”

“How can he love me when he doesn’t even know me?!”

“Because you’re his son. Look, I’m not asking you to forgive him. I just know that he’d give anything to see you one more time.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Then come and see for yourself. Please. Tomorrow. I’m sure Downton could spare you for a bit.”

“Oh yes, Downton would be more than happy to spare me.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re cutting down the staff. I have been asked to search for a new job since my position is the most useless.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said. Is that why Thomas looked like that?

“There’s nothing I can do about it, so.” Thomas’s shoulders sagged and for a moment Jimmy thought he might cry. He hated that look on Thomas.

“So will you come?”

Thomas sighed. “Yes. But only because you want me to.”

“Thank you,” he said and meant it.

*

Jimmy waited for Thomas at the Manchester train station at eleven, just as they agreed. Mr. Barrow has gotten worse overnight and there was a doctor with him now. Jimmy prayed Thomas and he would make it back in time. Finally, Thomas was here. He was carrying his valise, looking just as bad as the day before. He made his way to Jimmy, who stopped a taxi, instructing he man to go as fast as possible as soon as Thomas gets inside.

The doctor was still there when they arrived. Just before going inside, Thomas stopped Jimmy. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes Thomas, come on.”

“Jimmy? Is that you?” said Mr. Barrow, his voice barely audible.

“Yes. And I’ve brought somebody with me,” he said, gesturing for Thomas to stand next to him.

“Hello, father.”

“Thomas? Are you really here?” Tears were falling down the old man’s cheeks.

Both Jimmy and the doctor left the room, giving them privacy. Jimmy went upstairs to make some tea. He was pacing the kitchen, his mind couldn’t stop racing, when he heard Thomas call his name.

“He wants to see you.”

“Alright. I’ve made tea if you want some,” he said and entered Mr. Barrow’s room.

“Thank you, Jimmy.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimmy said, reaching for Mr. Barrow’s hand.

“Take care of him, will you? Tell him you love him. Promise me.”

He wanted to argue but realized there was nothing to argue about. “I promise,” he said, a single tear rolling silently down his face.

“Good. I’m going to sleep now,” he closed his eyes, his hand relaxed in Jimmy’s and on his lips was a small smile as his last breath left him.

Jimmy went upstairs. Thomas was sitting on the sofa, a cup in his hands. He was just in his shirtsleeves. He looked at Jimmy with a question on his face. Jimmy knew what the question was, so he nodded, and Thomas nodded back. He poured himself a cup and sat next to Thomas. And then he noticed the bandages on Thomas’s wrists. He snatched one of his hands.

“Thomas, what happened?”

“I was alone. And lonely. Didn’t seem worthy of carrying on.”

“Oh God, what have you done?”

“What does it look like, Jimmy? I cut my wrists and almost died if stupid Baxter hadn’t found me,” Thomas actually sounded angry and it made Jimmy’s chest hurt.

“But-”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it, alright? Not now.”

“Alright.”

“Do you mind if I stick around for a bit? I suppose there would be some paperwork regarding the shop and everything.”

“Well, actually… He wanted me to have the shop. You’re getting all his money and other possessions. But if you want the shop, you can have it, of course. Or, we can have it together. Or we can sell it and leave. Go to London, or America, or India, or the continent. Whatever you want. But you’ll have to deal with having me there, with you. If you want to go to States and become a film star, or professional poker player, we can do that.”

“You’d really do that for me?” Thomas sounded surprised. Surprised and… happy? He couldn’t imagine what really happened to Thomas to make him feel that death was his only solution. The old Thomas wouldn’t react like this.

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

“But why?”

“Because I love you. I love you, Thomas Barrow, and I want to tell you every day.”


End file.
